


Heat

by anoncanon



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncanon/pseuds/anoncanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get heated in the Western Approach... *wink wink*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

“And you win _again_. I’m gonna start thinking that your Ben Hassrath training included cheating at cards if this streak continues.”

The Iron Bull chuckled, “Don’t be a sore loser, Varric. How much is it that you owe me?”

“Way too much for one night,” the dwarf replied.

“How about I give you a chance to win it all back--”

The flaps on one of the tents parted to make way for their Inquisitor. She tied them close then walked to the two men.

“I can’t sleep, it’s way too hot out here,” she said, annoyed. “Whose watch am I supposed to take over?”

“Mine.” Varric got up, dusting the sand off his backside. He turned to Bull, “We can settle this tomorrow night.” He bade goodnight to the Inquisitor and walked toward his tent.

She padded around and settled down on a mat, near where Varric had been seated. Iron Bull kept his attention on their surroundings but he also managed to sneak a sidelong glance or two at their Inquisitor. She was wearing a pale shirt, too big for her slender form. The sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows and the hem reached passed midthigh. The garment was offset to one side, the neckline just about to slip over her shoulder, down her arm. She was tense, he could see it in her posture and the way her fingers picked at a loose thread restlessly.

For a while, it was silent but for the occasional animal cry and popping sound from the dying embers in the firepit.

“ _Ugh_. Why do we even have a fire?” she said suddenly, her voice low.

She shifted and peeled off her shirt, tossing it to the side. Under the shirt, she was wearing a very rudimentary top with seams at the front and down the sides. The side seams were sewn together only about halfway down, showing skin where they parted. She was also wearing simple shorts, with cords scrunching the waist and leg openings closed

“Not a fan of the desert, boss?” Bull asked.

She shook her head and sighed exasperatedly.

“It gets much colder at night,” he added. “The fire will be welcomed then.”

“Maybe so, but right now, the air is still too warm for me,” she replied softly.

They sat there silently for a while, just listening to the night sounds. Bull noticed Varric’s faint snoring. He heard someone shuffle and settle back into sleep.

The Inquisitor stretched and leaned back on her hands, her legs out in front of her. Her top moved around and Bull saw the the front seam wasn’t much of a seam, actually. It pulled in a way that opened the fabric to his view, revealing the soft curve of a breast. She didn’t seem to take notice, she was looking away toward the dark of the desert.

“Y’know, boss,” he said, “keeping watch is a pretty dull job, I can do it by myself. You look like you could use some rest.”

_And I can’t focus on the watch with an almost-naked lady within arm’s reach_ , he added mentally.

She turned to look at him, “I can’t sleep unless it gets colder. I’m not used to that kind of weather, it makes me… _restless_.”

There was something curious in the way she said that last word… They had a task to do though, so Bull opted out of pursuing that line of thought. More time passed by in silence. Eventually, his eyes found their way back to her, idly following the line of her neck down to her breast, still visible through the gap in her clothing.

The skin looked so soft. _I wouldn’t mind having a taste_ , Bull mused.

He heard her chuckle softly. “Stop looking down my shirt, you’re not helping,” she whispered, her voice husky.

“Maybe you shouldn’t flaunt it, then,” he replied with a smile.

She scoffed, “I’m not even your type.”

“You don’t know that.”

“ You’ve told me enough, what’s with the kitchen maids and buxom ladies back at Skyhold. Besides, flirting with you is like flirting with a wall. It’s all “Yes, boss” and “See you, boss.”

“A-- _what_?”

“Perhaps I should encourage Solas, or Cullen, more. Do you--” She paused, looking intently at the qunari, “Do you think they’d mind dressing me up in _ropes_?”

Bull bit back a groan. She had to be doing this on purpose. And she was getting to him, against his better judgment.

There was a sudden noise, coming from outside the camp. They shared a knowing look, then she nodded, grabbed a dagger and silently snuck out into the dark of night to go check on it. He stayed still, all his senses alert. He didn’t hear her come back, only picked up the ghost of her scent on the night air. She soon came into view, silent and agile as a cat.

“It was nothing,” she simply stated, before sitting back down in the same spot as before.

Her top moved back to cover her form as she settled. He looked at her head; red hair a dusky shade in the dark, the real color showing through the faint highlights the moonlight created. She wore dark powders around her eyes and a darker lip paint. He stared at her lips, picturing his thumb smudging the color to the side as she laid there, silk ribbons tight around her lithe form…

He felt his cock react in tune with the scenario playing out in his mind. For a moment, he considered shifting his position to hide his growing predicament, but he reminded himself that there’s nothing as suspicious as a sudden, unwarranted movement. It was dark and she probably wouldn’t see. Even if he might actually want her to see.

They sat silently for a spell and he let his mind wander freely, looking at her when she was looking away. He saw her shiver, noticing the goosebumps on her arms, her toes digging in the sand, the hard nipples poking at the flimsy fabric of her top. His erection didn’t relent, making a noticeably large bump in the fabric of his trousers.

She turned to him, “I guess you were right about the temperature.” She grabbed her shirt and put it back on, folding her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

The embers had faded, not doing better at this point than glowing a dull red. Bull got up as smoothly as he could manage and added wood to the firepit, stirring it to life again. It crackled, sending glowing coals and ash in the air, before small flames started licking at the new wood. He sat back down, close to where she was sitting. She took notice and looked at him inquisitively.

He made himself comfortable and leaned toward her, bringing his mouth closer to her ear. He kept his voice low so only she would hear.

“I’d slide my hand up that ridiculous shirt of yours, over your stomach and to your breast. And squeeze. Hard.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes wide and locked to his.

“You’d push against me, your back arching out, but I’d take my hand away. Can’t let you have it too easy, boss.”

“ _Bull_ \--”

“Oh, you’d have to be quiet or the whole camp would hear it... I’d remove the cords from your shorts to bind your wrists and tie them to a post, so you’d keep them _there_.”

He saw her eyes flutter close for a moment, her brow creasing slightly. When she looked at him again, her eyes were dark with lust.

“I’d kiss your neck, roughly, down until I’d get to your breast and bite at the nipple through the fabric…”

She swallowed most of a moan.

“At the same time, I’d have my hand trail up your inner thigh, sliding my fingers under the loose fabric... Close, closer, barely brushing...”

He leaned back slightly with a smirk on his face as she looked up sharply at him, her gaze pleading.

He shrugged, “You tease me, I tease you…”

He meant to sit back and let her stew a bit. She stared at him, eyes wide.

And then she finally noticed. He saw her eyes, clearly locked on his lap. Her breath quickened, her skin flushed even redder.

“Like what you s--” he started, his voice a low rumble, but he stopped short when her eyes snapped to his. There was no embarrassment, no shyness, only desire, lust. Pure and raw. She closed her eyes, brows knitting together, and softly moaned his name.

He froze. This was no longer teasing, this was an invitation to play. He looked around but it was still only the two of them. Varric’s faint snoring could be heard, unchanged, and the other tents were silent as a grave. They were supposed to keep watch, but he was confident that they’d manage anything that could show up. Besides, his erection wasn’t going to let him opt out. Satisfied that they were as alone as they could be, Bull looked back at her with a lopsided grin. He leaned closer.

“I’d _tear_ your shirt off,” his voice rumbled, “and move to bite at the skin just below the swell of your breast.”

She shifted closer to him, but still not close enough that they’d touch. She resumed her position from earlier, with her arms around her knees.

“Then, I’d kiss my way down to the ridge of your hips. I’d tease you there as I’m lowering your underpants. I’d spread your hips wide, exposing yourself to me.”

Her arms tightened around her knees and she visibly bit back a moan. His cock, already painfully hard, twitched.

He went on. “I’d ghost a finger over your slit and you’d already be ready for me, so wet, and I’d press a thick finger all the way in--”

She bit her lip hard, her teeth leaving a mark in the lip paint. She said his name again, her voice hoarse. He considered turning the fantasy into a reality right there and then, but it really wouldn’t be… appropriate. And it wouldn’t be a game any more. He cursed inwardly and swallowed his impulse.

“--and I’d slowly slide it out, completely. I would lower myself between your legs to bite at the silky skin of your inner thighs.” _Her scent would be driving me insane_ , he thought.

They were both locked into the fantasy by now. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, to feel her hand on him. She was panting softly, her thighs pressed tightly together. He knew that if he made a move to touch her, or if she did the same, that he would lose his composure. He wasn’t sure he’d bother getting to a tent.

“I’d be taking my time, biting, licking… sliding one, two fingers inside of you… making sure you’re--”

His train of thought halted as she moved a hand to her mouth and slowly slid two slender fingers in, pressing over her bottom lip. All he could do was to look at those fingers and her expression. She pulled the fingers out slowly and raised her eyes to look at him. At the last moment, she purposefully smudged her lip paint off her lips.

Bull groaned, not even trying to conceal the sound, “You’re supposed to be tied up, boss.”

“Just as you’re supposed to have your fingers inside me,” she replied.

“I’d take them out, you’d be enjoying it too much, too early,” he retorted.

She made a sound of protest, but he went on.

“Tsk tsk. I’d have to start all over again. From your neck, kissing, biting. I’d make sure to leave a mark. Then I’d go down over your breasts, your nipples. You’d lurch with every flick of my tongue.”

He saw her bite down on her knee, smudging more lip paint in the process.

“I’d kiss down your stomach, hands holding your hips in place. Lower, to your slit again. Tease you with my tongue. Your scent, your taste... “ He groaned again. “You’d beg and cry for more, but I’d still deny you your release. Not yet. Not until you’d feel me pressing the tip of my cock--”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a long stream of curses, coming from one of the tents.

The Inquisitor, startled, jumped a foot away from Bull. He managed to hide his surprise and turned his head toward the sound.

Cassandra finished struggling with the ties of her tent flaps and walked toward them, carrying her boots in a hand.

She looked at them. “Who do I replace--”

“Me!” the Inquisitor blurted out as she got straight up, “Good night!”

She passed Cassandra, walking fast, and vanished into her tent.

“Is she alright?” Cassandra asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, she is,” Bull replied as he shifted to be more comfortable.

Cassandra sat down on a wooden box to put on her boots.

Soon, Bull heard faint sounds coming from the Inquisitor’s tent. A body shifting, fabric rustling, a quiet moan… He shifted again, unable to completely repress a groan as fabric rubbed against his erection. He was still hard as a rock.  

Cassandra was staring at him.

“I, er, pulled a muscle, fighting, earlier,” he lied. Luckily, from where she was, there was no chance she’d see the reason of his discomfort.

They heard a soft cry coming from the Inquisitor’s tent, breaking into the silence of the night.

“Is she really alright?” Cassandra asked again, alarm visible on her features. “What did you do? Did you upset her?”

“She’s fine, seeker, don’t worry,” Bull answered with a grin.

“Mh,” Cassandra frowned, then she exclaimed in surprise and understanding. Her face turned beet-red.

Bull chuckled.

“ _Ugh_.”

 

 


End file.
